


A Vintage Set

by masswisteria



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Gen, OW FEELS
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-09
Updated: 2012-06-09
Packaged: 2017-11-07 09:47:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/429630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/masswisteria/pseuds/masswisteria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Avengers won a great victory, but it was not without its costs.  Some, like Natasha, have more reason to mourn than most.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Vintage Set

Natasha flipped through the volumes in the box, searching out her target. She skipped past books with superlative laden titles and covers drawn by artists with only the most tenuous grasp of anatomy. She very nearly winced at some of the poses; she had put people in those positions. They did not enjoy it. She looked at the next cover in the box and grimaced, remembering the awful mix of snapping and popping that one had produced.

Finally, she found what she had been looking for, its simple title and realistic pose seeming like subtle parody after what she had just flipped through. Even the seemingly impossibly muscle bound hero - apparently dressed up as a Fourth of July parade - on the cover was not much of an exaggeration, given Natasha's recent experience. She tucked the book under her arm and walked over to the counter, glad to have found what she wanted.

The young cashier did not look up from his video game until Natasha coughed lightly, and even then his eyes never quite made it up to her face. Another cough brought his focus the rest of the way up and produced quite a blush on his cheeks. At least the kid had enough sense to be embarrassed. He set his game on the counter and stammered out something that might have been a "May I help you?"

"Just this, please," Natasha told him, smiling, as she handed over the comic book and her credit card.

He relaxed visibly, note that it seemed his customer wasn't going to strike him dead for ogling her. The comic book in his hands seemed to give him courage. "Ah, 'Captain America,'" he said knowingly. "We had boxes of old issues in the back room. Couldn't pay people to take them, until that thing in New York."

"It's for a...a friend," she replied, as her smile slipped from her face. The cashier didn't seem to notice.

"Well, he's lucky. I think this is our last copy. Though I suppose they'll be rebooting the title soon. Sign this please?" He asked, handing her the credit slip.

Natasha signed the paper and with a quick "thank you" she grabbed her purchase from the counter and headed out to her car. She wanted to be done with idle chatter. The conversation had gotten dangerously close to things she didn't want to talk about...or think about. As she hurried across the parking lot she could feel her control slipping, those unwanted memories slipping through cracks.

_Phil waved at her from across the mess hall, his tray in his hands and a small package tucked awkwardly under one arm. Natasha waved back and grinned. Eating lunch together had become a regular thing for them, and today as on most days Natasha welcomed the company. Even after several months of active duty with SHIELD, there were only a bare handful of agents who were willing to even speak to Natasha without a direct order. She understood that it would take time to earn their trust, but the way conversation stopped when she entered a room, the way they tried to hit her harder than they did the other agents in sparring practice, the nervous, disapproving looks they gave her when they thought she wasn’t looking, all wore at her nonetheless. Phil had been the first to acknowledge her as a teammate._

_They talked as they ate, as usual about anything and everything not related to work. It was one of the things she enjoyed most about spending time with Phil: he saw her as more than just a weapon. But he seemed distracted today. His eyes kept flicking back to the box he had set down next to his tray, and his fingers twitched ever so slightly as if they wanted to put down the knife and fork and tear open the packaging right there. Finally, after Phil trailed off mid-sentence for the fourth time - in the same sentence, actually, Natasha had to stop this. “OK Phil, what’s in the box?” she asked, legitimately curious to learn what could distract him so._

_For some reason, Phil’s eyes went wide in embarrassment, and he actually started blushing. “Oh...oh it’s nothing, really,” he lied, his eyes dropping down for a careful study of the peas on his plate._

_“You’ve hardly been able to take your eyes off it since you sat down. So what is it?” she pried._

_Phil looked back up at her. The blush was gone, but a nervous tension had crept in around his eyes. “Oh, it’s just...,” he paused, seemingly searching for the right words. “Well, I collect ‘Captain America’ trading cards. It’s sort of a hobby?” He seemed to regain confidence as he went on. “And I finally found the last card to complete my first printing collection. It’s in great shape too, near mint condition!” He was grinning now, his earlier anxiety forgotten in his excitement._

_Natasha smiled back, enjoying her friend’s happiness. She did have one question she had to ask, though. “What’s ‘Captain America’?”_

_It was several long minutes before she was convinced Phil wasn’t having a seizure._

Natasha yanked open the car door and through her bags onto the passenger seat. Her forehead ached with the effort of holding back tears. She climbed in, shut the door behind her, and jammed the keys into the ignition. She hated this, hated how her body betrayed her. She should be able to stop it - shut off the tears, end that sickening twisting in her stomach, stop her heart from aching. Pounding her fists against the steering wheel, she gave up and let the tide of memories wash over her.

_They sat together on the small sofa in Phil’s quarters, a big bowl of popcorn between them, as ‘Captain America: Shield of Liberty’ played on the screen before them. Phil had spent weeks trying to arrange a day where they were both off duty, before coming up with a better plan. Natasha wondered what the Director would say if he knew that when Phil said he wanted time to “educate Natasha about SHIELD’s history” he actually meant “sit her down for an all-day ‘Captain America’ movie marathon.”_

_He stared up at the screen, eyes wide, looking for all the world like a giddy schoolboy, and Natasha smiled. To be honest, it was all a bit too ‘rah-rah’ patriotic for her tastes. The jingoism hit a bit too close to home. But if she looked past the propaganda, she could see why Phil loved it so much. The character represented all of the values Phil seemed to prize: loyalty, honesty, trust, all qualities that had helped him accept her first as a teammate and then as a friend. If growing up watching these movies helped instill those values, then the least Natasha could do is watch them now with him._

_Phil bounced a bit in his seat. “Oh, watch this,” he said around a mouthful of popcorn. “This is my favorite part, where...”_

Natasha shut off the engine and got out of the car. Somehow she had managed to drive to her destination, though she had no memory of the journey. She shifted her bags to one arm so she could wipe tears from her face, knowing full well that the effort was pointless. The sun shone brightly overhead and the blue sky and vivid green grass surrounding her seemed to mock her mood. She took a deep breath and headed down the gravel path. She tried to shut out her own thoughts and focus instead on the numbered markers, looking for the right one. Finally stopped by one of the markers and turned off the path into the grass.

_As soon as she heard the news, Natasha knew where Phil would be. She found him right where she expected, standing in front of the plexiglass window looking into the isolation ward. His face bore a pained mixture of worry and awe. “Hey. How are you doing?” she asked softly, placing her hand on his shoulder._

_“The docs aren’t sure if he’ll make...they don’t know if he’ll wake up,” he said without taking his eyes off the bedridden figure on the other side of the window. Natasha squeezed his shoulder lightly. He turned towards her ever so briefly, and she could see the pain in his eyes, worn by too many hours of standing watch, too many unshed tears. He would not want to weep in front of his hero. She wondered how long he had been there alone._

_“I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for him, you know,” Phil said, his voice cracking slightly. Natasha waited for the story to come, one she had heard before, about a boy who dreamed of fighting for peace and justice just like his hero. But the words that came next were not what she expected._

_“My grandfather was in the 107th. Infantry, during World War II. His unit had been captured by Hydra. They were almost certainly going to die.” Phil’s words came in short bursts, cut off before his voice revealed his emotions. “Captain America rescued them, saved my grandfather’s life. My trading cards...some of them used to be granddad’s. He started the collection, really, died before he could finish it.”_

_Natasha stood there in silence, not knowing what to say. Giving up on words, she reached down and took Phil’s hand in hers, turned towards the window, and joined his silent vigil._

Natasha knelt down in the damp grass and placed the comic book beside the gravestone. “I brought you something, Phil,” she whispered. “I hope you like it.” She took a deep breath and placed one hand on the headstone. Memories and emotions ran through her mind and she let them come, no longer caring about the tears streaming down her face or the shuddering sobs that wracked her body. “And I just wanted to say thank you,” she said through the tears. “I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you.”


End file.
